


SUNSHINE

by SuddenSweetly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Angst, Captivity, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark fic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Kidnapping, Lima Syndrome, Loss of Virginity, Mafia AU, Mob AU, Past Torture, Pregnancy, Restraints, Riding Crops, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy relationship dynamics that shouldn't be romanticized, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, dark!fic, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenSweetly/pseuds/SuddenSweetly
Summary: You took up a cocktail waitressing job at an underground gambling club owned by one of the most notorious criminals in New York City. You went unnoticed for the most part, until you got framed for a crime you didn’t commit. Unfortunately for you, the blue eyed mob boss holds grudges. Mob AU.NOTE: Chapter specific warnings are in the beginning notes section of each chapter.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 67
Kudos: 161





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: 18+, NONCON, smut (f-receiving oral, fingering, loss of virginity, very rough sex), violence (slapping, belts, restraint, biting, mentions of blood), kidnapping, implied pregnancy, brief description of suicidal ideation.

_Day one._

_The first thing you noticed was the feeling of rope digging into your wrists, the frayed twine doing well to scrape your skin off a little at a time. The second thing you noticed was your nudity, and the chilly air that enveloped your body. You couldn’t see anything in the pitch black room. You panicked and tried to pull your hands loose, but they were wound tight. You started to feel your soft skin tear, and the sting made you stop. Out of breath, tears dripping down your face, you shook, scared._

_Before you could think any more about it, a door opened with a furious creak and the lights turned on. Your eyes squinted, adjusting to the sickly fluorescent glow from the cheap light above._

_You heard footsteps. Each thud on the stone stairs made your heart race faster._

_A figure appeared, and you nearly stopped breathing._

_You knew who he was. Steve Rogers, king of the underground, one of the most dangerous men in New York. He was the owner of the “exclusive gambling club” you worked at, but he was rarely around on your shifts. You had never talked to him before._

_“What’s happening?” You asked, your voice shaking and small, mortified at your current state of undress._

_He didn’t respond. The cold stare in his eyes melted any semblance of bravery you had, until nothing but fear pooled in your heart._

_Without a word, he ran a hand up your leg, from your ankles to your thigh. You started to kick and flail, doing everything you could to get away, the skin around your wrists burning from the rope._

_He slapped you across the face so hard, you were dazed, and you stopped moving. You were plaint long enough for him to flip you on your stomach, and you whined as the rope around your wrists tightened, the blood pooling in your hands._

_You heard clinking and sliding._

_“What-” and you screamed._

_He struck you with what you assumed was his belt several times, each one more painful than the last. Your agonized screams didn't stop him or slow him down._

_By the time he tossed the belt onto the bed, you were sobbing into the hard mattress, shaking in both fear and pain. Your back felt raw, your skin burning with every small movement you made, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were bleeding._

_You were flipped over again, and you yelped when you back scrapped against the rough bedsheets under you._

_Steve pried your legs apart and ran his fingers across your vulnerable folds, causing you flinch and move away. He clearly didn’t like that, and it resulted in another slap, this time, on the soft skin of your inner thigh. You whimpered and stopped trying to squirm away._

_Satisfied that you wouldn’t struggle, he resumed his violation of you. A strong hand held you down and you felt his fingers poke and prod at your pussy lips. You were dry._

_He never looked at you, only stroked your folds before strumming your clit. You bit back a moan, your body was betraying you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing what he was doing to you._

_For all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the startled yelp that escaped when he suddenly shoved a thick finger inside you. You weren’t wet enough to aid the intrusion, so you felt every bit of him fight his way inside. He worked you slowly, hitting a spot inside your pussy that had you writhing under him. You groaned when he added another finger, the stretch burning your untouched walls._

_Between nursing school and work, you had little time to date._

_These were all new feelings to you. He must have noticed._

_“Are you a virgin?” Those were the first words he said to you._

_Your mind was racing and you could hardly register what he was saying. He slapped you again, this time gently to get your attention, and grabbed your chin to look at him._

_“When I ask questions, I expect answers.” His face and voice was devoid of expression._

_“Y-yes, I am,” you whimpered._

_He groaned softly as he continued to finger you._

_“Why are you-”_

_“You’re tight,” he cut you off like he didn’t hear you. “And you’ve never been fucked before. This isn’t going to be a pleasant experience for you, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me work you open.” He curled his fingers within you ever so slightly, touching a part of your cunt that had you gasping. “I’d advise you to stop asking questions. I’ll be more than happy to shove my cock in you dry,” his voice was calm, emotionless, like he was discussing business._

_To your utter mortification, your body continued to react naturally to the stimulation, your pussy throbbed around the fingers that were inside it, getting slicker by the second. You saw him smirk._

_After a few more rough thrusts, he removed his fingers from you and watched them glisten with your arousal. His eyes didn’t leave yours when he put those fingers in his mouth and sucked your juices clean off them._

_“I wasn’t planning on eating you out tonight, but virgin women are harder to come by in my world.”_

_His words knocked the wind out of you, and you could only lay there in fear as he lowered himself until he was staring directly at your most private place, and you were mortified._

_“Cute pussy,” he murmured._

_You tried to shut your legs but he quickly held your thighs apart, your slit opening to expose your delicate petals. You felt his tongue lick straight up your pussy, from your virgin opening to your throbbing clit. You bucked your hips on reflex and he used one of his large hands to hold your down, his fingers digging into your delicate flesh._

_He moaned quietly, “You taste sweet.”_

_He pulled the hood of your clit back, exposing the little bud from its hiding place._

_You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped when he sucked your clit into his mouth, the stiff tip of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. You felt the coarse hairs of his beard tickling the sensitive skin around your cunt, the lewd sound of his mouth on your drenched pussy filling the room._

_You moaned, tears running down your face. It was too much._

_“That’s it, let go,” growled before he resumed a combination of sucking and licking._

_Then he shoved two fingers back into your tight, velvet channel, stroking them against a spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body._

_Like a rubber band pulled too tight, you snapped. Your back arched as you panted, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that filled the room._

_“Shit,” he used his thumb to continue teasing your clit through your orgasm so he could watch your body move on its own, enraptured by the sight. You could feel your walls clamping around his fingers as he continued to push you through._

_He stopped rubbing your pussy when you finally came down, giving your sensitive clit one last hard suck that made you squirm. He peered down at you and you could see the thick beard hairs coated in yourself. He had a look of malicious amusement when he watched your limp body, and the deep rise and fall of your chest, your orgasm having taxed you so greatly._

_“That the first time someone made you cum?” He asked, but already knew the answer._

_“Yes,” you said between breaths, and he smirked._

_When he was satisfied you wouldn’t try to get up and started to undress._

_Your eyes traveled from his broad shoulders to his muscular chest and arms, and you knew there was no fighting him. Your moment of blissful weakness was cut abruptly when your eyes lowered to his cock, your legs snapping shut on instinct. He was huge._

_“That’s not going to fit-”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_He pulled your legs apart and settled between your soft thighs before draping himself over you so he could look directly into your eyes. You tried to look away but he lifted your chin to meet his lust blown gaze._

_"Here are your rules, and if you're as smart as I think you are, you'll listen."_

_He grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed it, feeling the weight of it within his palm. You weren’t the most ample chested, and you could hardly fill his his large hands, but he seemed satisfied. He leaned down to capture a nipple in his mouth and quickly bit it, causing you to flinch._

_"Rule one: you belong to me." He moved forward to look directly into your teary eyes, his hand moved from your breast downward. “This includes your body and your mind.”_

_"Rule two: you obey me, no questions asked."_

_He pumped his cock a few times before running it up and down your slit to gather your arousal, making sure to bump your clit with his head and smirking wickedly when you tried to stifle a moan._

_"Rule three: you speak to me with respect. ‘Yes sir,’ ‘no sir,’ ‘please,’ thank you.’"_

_He continued to rub his cock through your folds, and you hated how your body responded to the stimulation, your pussy clenching around nothing and weeping._

_"Rule four: you never raise your voice at me. The only time you can be loud is if you're being punished or when you cum, and only if I let you."_

_He lined himself at your entrance, the blunt head just barely touching your opening, making sure your eyes were on his. You started to breathe in quickly with shallow gasps, your body trembling with the anticipated agony that was sure to come._

_"Rule five: you take whatever I give you."_

_With a snap of his hips, he entered you._

_You screamed._

_Despite the power in this thrust and the time he took to work you open with his fingers, he slid in you slowly, your walls fighting the intrusion, refusing to let him in.._

_“Please take it out, it hurts,” you sobbed, your hands gripping at the ropes tying you to the headboard in an attempt to hold onto something, anything._

_“That’s the point,” he groaned and pushed even harder, determined to fill you._

_You felt like you were being ripped in half._

_"You're so tight, even for a virgin," he moaned._

_It was pure agony._

_"Please stop!" You began to beg, but stopped when you felt his hand around your throat._

_"What did I just tell you? You take whatever I give you," he said through gritted teeth. “I typically fuck hotter girls, and so many of them would gladly take your place. You should be grateful anyone wants to fuck you at all. You’re so plain, so forgettable. So you better take it and be happy, you understand?”_

_You continued to sob as he violated you and broke you down._

_The hand around your throat tightened._

_"I asked you a question."_

_"Y-yes, I understand," you said through shallow gasps._

_"Yes, what?"_

_"Yes sir." You would do whatever he wanted if it meant the pain would go away._

_"Good girl," he purred as he let go of your neck and finally bottomed out._

_You gasped in, taking in as much air as you could._

_You were shaking under him, from both pain and fear._

_Without another word, he tilted his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained inside before thrusting into you hard. This time he slid in immediately and you cried out when he rammed into your cervix._

_"You feel so good," he moaned as he fucked into you with slow, hard thrusts, relishing the way your body jolted each time he did it, your pained sobs music to his ears._

_"You keep crying, but you’re pretty soaked," he whispered as he looked where your bodies joined, entranced by his large cock disappearing into your cunt. His pace picked up, one hand gripping your hip, the other one poking through your folds._

_He leaned down and captured a nipple between his lips the same time his fingers found your bud. He suckled, almost gently, and it sent a spark of pleasure through your body, until he took it away with a sharp nip of his teeth. His fingers rubbed your clit at different speeds and directions, finding what you reacted to best._

_"You a natural slut, aren't you. You act all innocent, but you’re taking me so well. You like this, don't lie," he sneered as his fingers continued to coax you closer to release._

_Your walls started to relax around his cock, and the pain ebbed away slightly, leaving delicious and horrific pleasure in its place. He angled his hips so his cock was rubbing against a spot that made you see stars._

_"Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum all over my cock?"_

_You tried to respond, but couldn't speak, your words coming out in a garbled mess. He must have accepted that as an answer._

_He looked down at you, your legs spread open, your body writhing under him and he hummed at the sight._

_"I want you to beg me," he said, and his thrusts slowed down and his fingers left your clit._

_You gasped at the sudden loss of pleasure, which only brought back the pain. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum, but you wanted the agony to go away._

_In a cry that shattered what remained of your dignity, you screamed, "Please let me cum! Please!"_

_“Fuck,” he grunted. “Say you’re a worthless slut that likes getting fucked hard.”_

_You sobbed, wanting it to stop._

_“I-I’m a worthless slut that likes getting fucked hard!”_

_“Good girl,” he responded with a moan and smirked while his hips picked up the pace, his finger returning to your overstimulated bud. His thrusts became harder and faster, his cock rubbing over that sinful spot within you._

_It was a thin sheet of pleasure holding back a flood of pain, but your body didn't care._

_Your back arched, your head tilted back, your mouth agape as you came, a hedonistic moan escaping from your mouth._

_He watched you in awe at the sight of you orgasming, captivated at how your body moved, and it made him cum seconds after you. His thrusts got harder and deeper as he groaned through gritted teeth._

_You were still coming down from your high, your pussy fluttering around his twitching cock when you felt the searing burn of his seed coating your abused walls. Not even a second later, you felt a horrible blunt pain on your neck, and realized he had bitten you. You shrieked._

_He let go of your neck, blood coating his mouth, a droplet or two in his beard, and licked his lips before he collapsed on top of you._

_The only sounds were ragged breathing and your sniffling._

_He lifted himself up to his elbows, keeping his cock in you. He untied your wrists from the headboard, and smirked when you didn't bother to push him away, too exhausted to try._

_You began to sob again when you realized what had just happened, what he made you say, how he made you feel._

_"Oh baby, don't cry. We're not even close to getting started."_

_You didn’t think you could feel more empty, so devoid of hope or light, but when you felt his cock harden within you, his hips beginning to thrust again, your soul shattered._

_***_

You woke up in a cold sweat. You still had nightmares of your fist night as Steve’s prisoner, unable to keep the searing humiliation and pain out of your head, despite it feeling so long ago. You used to entertain the idea of giving up. You’d punch the mirror to get a glass shard and carve your own way out, releasing whatever spirit you had left so it could be free from the prison of your scarred body.

But those thoughts were rare these days. You had something that kept you going, kept you together.

The gentle stirring and sleepy babbling in the crib next to your bed pulled you from your darkest thoughts.

You got up and stretched, trying to shake off any knots that formed due to the lumpy and hard mattress you slept on. 

The floor was cold, as it always was. You flicked on the light switch to turn on the sickly glow you’ve become accustomed to.

You heard a small shriek of surprise and you rushed to the crib.

"Oh baby, it's okay. Mama's here," you cooed as you picked her up - your one tether to sanity, your last thread of hope.

***


	2. Day 2-17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: 18+, NONCON, smut (rough sex, anal, oral), violence (slapping, belts, restrains, mentions of blood, injuries), captivity, pregnancy

_Day Two._

_A deep ache in your core woke you up. You were sprawled across the lumpy bed like you had been thrown there with little care to how you landed, and you were certain that’s exactly what happened._

_A sharp spike of pain shot through your body when you tried to get up, starting from between your legs and travelling up your spine. Leaning on an elbow, you felt your cunt throb, and you saw dried blood and cum smeared around your inner thighs. It didn’t take long to remember what Steve did to you._

_You felt your stomach drop, and you looked around frantically, hoping he wasn’t still in the room with you. He wasn’t, and you were alone. The relief of that in itself was enough for the tears to start welling up in your eyes, especially when your mind drifted to the night before. Or what you assume was night before. You had no sense of time anymore._

_You lost count of the times he fucked you and forced you to cum._

_As if taking your virginity wasn’t enough, he had you in multiple ways after, if only to demonstrate what he was capable of. After fucking you for the first time, he had you on your hands and knees where he rammed you from behind, your cunt open to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t know existed._

_He shoved you onto the floor, where he grabbed you by the hair to lift you on your knees, and held your jaw open as he fucked your throat. He made sure you knew that if he felt teeth, he’d make sure you didn’t have any the next time. You remember tasting the mild tang of yourself on his cock, mixed with the salty taste of his cum and a faint metallic taste you assume was your own blood._

_Then he bent you over the counter of what looked like a kitchenette. You didn’t have time to think about it as he hammered into you._

_The last thing you remember was being shoved against the wall, the rough stone digging into the wounds left from his belt. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist as he fucked into you, each thrust pushing you up against the wall and scrapping your back, making you wince._

_A particularly intense and painful orgasm made you pass out in his arms in some sort of cruel mercy._

_You let yourself cry for a couple of moments before taking in your surroundings, knowing there was nothing you could do otherwise._

_The room was relatively small - a dresser next to the uncomfortable bed that was stained with your virgin blood and Steve’s cum, a small table and a couple chairs in the corner, and the kitchenette you had already met. On the counter was a toaster oven that sat on top of a microwave, and on top of the mini fridge was a single electric burner. A sink was off to the side, and next to it was a closed door, near the stone stairs that lead up._

_The room looked like it used to be an actual dungeon, with cold stone walls and floors._

_‘Who the hell has an actual dungeon these days?’ You wondered, but then realized, ‘probably a man who kidnaps and rapes women.’_

_Moving your body was an agonizing experience. The welts on your back stung when you tried to get up. Your wrists prickled with pain, the ropes having rubbed the first few layers of skin off._

_You finally got up and each step made your legs ache, your inner thighs in particular. You opened the door next to the sink. Inside was a toilet and a simple shower. The faucet was old, and it turned on with a squeak when you twisted the knob, but to your relief, the water ran clear. It was even warm, not expecting a luxury in your prison._

_The shower had generic soap, so you rinsed yourself off, trying to scrub as much of him off you as possible. The warm water was soothing, but you hissed when it hit and ran down the welts on your back._

_After what felt like hours, you got out, feeling somewhat clean._

_You forgot to see if there were any towels and had to walk to the dresser naked. Inside were simple clothes: shirts, shorts, plain dresses, undergarments, etc._

_The top drawer was locked, and no amount of pulling opened it, so you let it go._

_You stood there, water dripping down your body, and the horrible realization you were trying to avoid hit you._

_This room was designed to keep someone alive for a while. A completely self contained prison. The clothes solidified your fears. Why else would he supply you with them?_

_You wearily put on a clean t-shirt, panties, and cotton shorts._

_‘At least he gave me clothes,’ you thought._

_With nothing else to do, you sat on the bed and waited._

_It was cold, and while you saw a vent above the kitchenette, you doubted it did anything but circulate air. Through your shivers, your eyelids got heavier._

_You must have fallen asleep. The sound of a door opening and heavy thuds descending down the stairs woke you up and sent a chill through your spine. You were afraid to get up, so you pretended to be asleep, hoping he’d just leave you alone._

_No such miracle happened._

_You felt a hand grab your ankle and you were harshly pulled from the bed and thrown to the floor, where you knee scraped along the rough stone._

_Large feet walked towards you and you tried to scramble away._

_Steve kneeled in front of you, a mean glint in his eyes._

_“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered._

_He ran his hand across your cheek with alarming gentleness, before he tangled it in your hair and yanked you up._

_You shrieked when he tossed you back on the bed, your whole body aching._

_“You know why,” he growled._

_“I don’t-”_

_He slapped you across the face, the white hot sting nearly numbing your cheek before throbbing pain took over._

_You held your face and sobbed._

_He leaned in close, and you could see the hatred in the calm fury of his eyes._

_“Don’t play dumb, you stupid bitch. We have you on camera bringing Rumlow that fucking glass.”_

_Your heart dropped when he mentioned the glass._

_“I gotta admit, it was clever, encrypting it so you could pass over intel. I doubt you were the one who came up with it, though. We know you brought it in from somewhere, and wanna know who gave it to you, so fucking talk.”_

_You shook your head, and he slapped you across the face again, in the same place as before. You whimpered. It was surely swollen by now._

_“There’s no other way he could’ve known where we were, we were blindsided, some of my men died, and they took my right hand man. You better pray to whatever god you believe in that he comes back safely, or else I will do so much worse than fuck you.”_

_You gulped. He must have been talking about the equally notorious Bucky Barnes. Steve may have been head of the family officially, but they ran things together._

_“I didn’t do it,” you whispered._

_He wrapped a hand around your throat._

_“Oh baby, you’re going to be here for awhile. You might as well get used to telling the truth.”_

_“I am,” you sobbed. “I only worked at the casino to pay for school, I didn’t even know who Rumlow was.”_

_He rolled his eyes and pushed you onto the bed. You heard him start to undress and you whimpered. And as Steve crawled over you, yanking your clothes off and settling between your legs, you sobbed and begged him to stop, your hands hitting soft blows against his chest._

_He grabbed your wrists and used your shirt to tie them to the metal headboard._

_He spread your legs further apart, and you felt his cock prodding at your hot entrance. Your pussy was still swollen and throbbing from the night before, each pulse radiating heat, much too raw to be used again so soon._

_“Please don’t, it hurts too much,” you cried._

_“Good.”_

_And he thrust his hips forward._

_You thought you knew pain before. You were wrong. Every orgasm he ripped from your overworked cunt was pure agony, and he reveled in it._

***

_Nursing school took up nearly all your time, and with no support from ‘family’ and rent to pay, you needed something, and fast. You had managed to stretch out your student loans by being extra frugal, which wasn’t hard since you rarely went out anyway. But despite living off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ramen, your bank account was quickly reaching ‘zero.’_

_A friend of a friend, a somewhat rough around the edges type named Kelsey, told you she worked at a gambling club that paid incredibly well for relatively low hours. You were hesitant, not exactly the clubbing type, preferring to shy away from large crowds._

_“That’s perfect, actually. They sort of like their cocktail waitresses to be silent and unseen,” Kelsey said. “Look, it’s not… the most “reputable establishment,” but I can bring home $600 in tips for a four hour shift. I can’t exactly complain."_

_It felt a little too good to be true, but you decided to take a shot. And then you found out the “gambling club” was the Howling Commando, a rumored cesspool of criminal activity. According to the urban legends, only the nastiest and most vicious crime lords congregated there, and it was run by none other than Steve Rogers, the king of the underground._

_You really needed to have a talk with Kelsey that “less than reputable establishment” and “literal center for mob activity” were two very different things._

_Thirty minutes into your first shift, you were ready to quit. But when a patron tipped you $50 for bringing him a glass of whiskey, the risks felt worth it. Your first two shifts went by smoothly, and as Kelsey said, people were more than happy to ignore you as long as you brought them drinks. The nursing program was set to end in the summer, and you planned on immediately applying for jobs after. This job was temporary._

_You could do this._

_And you did, for nearly 4 months._

_In some cruel and comedic gesture from the universe, you were ready to turn in your serving tray for good, having just graduated from your program, resumes and cover letters already sent to several hospitals._

_But then Bailey, one of the lead waitresses, asked you to cover her Saturday night shift, which was after you planned on quitting._

_She said all you really needed to do was serve a specific man a specific drink in a specific glass._

_That was it. She couldn’t do it because some family emergency came up._

_You’d have been far more suspicious if it were anyone else, but in the months that you worked there, Bailey had been nothing but kind and protective of you. The other workers often made fun of you for being a “good girl,” too high and mighty for the rest of them. You spoke very little of yourself, a tip from Kelsey you took well to heart. You kept to yourself and never made friends, something the others interpreted as coldness._

_Bailey always defended you, saying it was probably for the best you all knew as little as possible about each other given what the club was. Plus, you knew her mom was sick, and it had been an ongoing issue. Family emergencies were common with her._

_So you accepted._

_She handed you the glass you needed to give a man named Brock Rumlow and told you to keep it in your locker until you were ready._

_“Why this glass?” You asked. It looked like an ordinary whisky glass._

_“I dunno, rich people have weird hangups.”_

_You thought about the man who would throw a fit if there were more than 3 olives in his martini, citing it to be bad luck, or the woman who only drank vodka if it was in a highball glass with two mixing straws that weren’t allowed to touch. Wanting to use a specific glass didn’t seem so weird._

_And that’s what landed you in your hell._

_You helped out a friend and gave a man a drink._

_You completed your last shift, and went home, not knowing you had just signed your soul over._

_A week later, you woke up in the room, where the most dangerous man in New York City fucked your brains out._

_You almost told Steve who set you up, but you couldn’t be sure Bailey did it maliciously. Maybe someone set her up, too? All you knew is that you couldn’t condemn her to your fate if you weren’t completely sure._

_So you endured._

***

_Steve finished with a groan after the third time he forced an orgasm out of you, thick ropes of cum coating your overworked walls as they clamped around him. Each flutter hurt. Your pussy was so sore, you doubted you’d be able to walk for awhile. You were shaking beneath him and he looked down between your legs, smirking while his seed dribbled out of your abused hole._

_A tired whine escaped you when he gathered the cum that had leaked out with his fingers and shoved it back into your cunt, making sure to stroke your enflamed velvet walls while he did so. He removed his fingers and slapped your cunt a few times while you winced beneath him._

_“You’re either incredibly loyal to Rumlow or you like getting fucked,” he sneered at you. “Because this isn’t going to stop until you talk.”_

_You almost did, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t._

_He leaned forward until his face was inches from yours, his blue eyes piercing through you._

_“No? Good, because there’s so much more I’m happy to teach you.”_

_He moved in even closer, where he nipped your jaw before his lips nearly touched your ear. You could feel the rough hair of his beard tickle your face, his hot breath steaming against your skin.._

_“I’m going to get to know your body so well,” he murmured into your ear before pushing himself up so he could look down at you once more._

_“I look forward to ruining you.”_

_He untied you from the bed and left you there._

***

The infant babbled at you and your eyes softened as you gave her a small smile. You didn’t know you were capable of smiling anymore, but then she came along and your world changed.

"I love you," you murmured as you rocked her.

14 days. That's how old she was. You had been in that room for the duration of your pregnancy, and the average pregnancy lasts 280 days. You found out you were pregnant about 116 days in, and based on when your symptoms first appeared, you were probably pregnant for about 40-50 days before that.

It was a little over a year or so since you were brought to your current hell, give or take a couple weeks, and you could only briefly mourn the life you lost before shoving that feeling down so it wouldn’t consume you. 

You needed to be strong. For her. 

The first several weeks of your captivity were the hardest. Steve made sure to break your spirit multiple times over. But all of that seemed so far away with every second you spent with your daughter. 

***

_Day 17._

_You had been in that room for 17 days, and Steve’s cruelty had yet to reach its peak._

_Every time he visited you, he asked you what you knew about Rumlow, and every time, you had no answers. He didn’t seem to care, almost enjoying your silence so he had excuses to use you. And use you he did. His interrogation sessions always ended with him between your legs, or you between his as he forced his length down your throat._

_You didn’t know how many times he choked you until you passed out or hit your back with his belt. You fought against him a little too hard last week, and he used zip ties to secure your wrists to the metal headboard. Stretched on your stomach, you heard the turning of a key and you assumed he opened the top drawer of the dresser for the first time._

_You had a lot of time to wonder what he stored in there which was psychological torture in itself, and you knew it wasn’t going to be good for you. You braced yourself and jumped with a small shriek when you felt something gently running down your back, from between your shoulder blades, to your ass, and back up._

_And then you heard a snap before you felt it. It didn’t hurt, not immediately, almost like your nerves needed a second to comprehend what happened. But when they finally did, it was white hot pain followed by sharp tingling down a straight line._

_You screamed into the mattress, and he only stopped hitting you with what you assumed was some sort of riding crop or cane when you were certain your skin split in some areas._

_A week later, and you still couldn’t lay on your back without it hurting._

_Like clockwork in your predictable hell, you heard the door to the prison open, and his distinct footsteps on the stone stairs._

_He was there, ready for business, his sleeves rolled up his forearms, evil glint in his eyes._

_You knew to wait on the edge of the bed as soon as you heard him come in. It was where he often made you sit when he interrogated you, and he looked amused at how much he’d trained you._

_“I’m going to ask you again, where did you get that glass?”_

_“I don’t know,” you whispered, knowing this was just going to end in more pain for you._

_His jaw ticked and ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his chin, as if thinking. You shuddered. He wasn’t in a good mood today._

_“What has that man got on you?” He had his hands on his hip, leaning slightly. “He definitely wasn’t fucking you. Not just because I popped your cherry a couple weeks ago, but Rumlow likes pretty girls.”_

_Oh, he could be mean. Very mean. No matter how many times he’s made you bleed, his words were often the most painful, like you should be grateful he even wanted to fuck you._

_“I don’t have time for this, take off your clothes and get on your stomach.”_

_A man of his word, he spent the last couple of weeks really getting to know your body: what made it tic, what made it squirm, what made it sing, and what made it hurt. Like promised, he used all that to ruin you._

_Sometimes, if he felt you were well behaved enough, he let you cum in a way that felt good. He’d eat you out until you writhing under him, and then he’d fuck you until your pussy was clenching around him, making sure to hit the areas in your cunt that he knew would completely undo you. You began to look forward to those moments, where the forced bliss made you forget the pain for at least a few minutes. He liked knowing he could make you scream in pleasure even though he knew you didn’t want it._

_And if you were bad. Well._

_You felt his hands grab your hips and he pulled them up so you were on your hands and knees._

_You yelped when you felt him press a thumb against your back entrance and you tried crawling away, only for him to slap your ass so hard, you could feel it in your teeth._

_He hadn’t done **that** yet._

_“No no, what was rule five?” He sneered when he dragged you back._

_“Take whatever you give me, sir,” you nearly whispered._

_He chuckled darkly._

_“So you do remember. Good. Then obey.”_

_He pressed his thumb back onto your puckered hole, and you cried out when he managed to open it a little._

_“Fuck, this is going to hard,” he groaned before unlocking the top drawer and pulling out a bottle. “Normally I wouldn’t give a fuck if I ripped you open but I have a feeling I wouldn’t even be able to get in without some help.”_

_You began to tremble, your arms struggling to keep you up as your elbows began to weaken._

_You felt cool liquid run down your crack, and he rubbed it around your hole before a finger breeched inside, going in a lot smoother than before._

_“That’s it,” he groaned. “Relax, baby, you might even enjoy it, you little slut.”_

_He worked his finger through your hole, adding another after a couple moments. You yelped when you felt him scissor them in you, stretching you as much as he could._

_You couldn’t relax, even if you wanted to._

_He removed his fingers, and your heart stopped when you heard him undoing his belt._

_You heard him squeeze more liquid out of the bottle, and the wet sound of him pumping his cock before you felt the blunt head press against your puckered hole._

_Tears were already running down your face, your hands fisting the sheets below you, waiting._

_Slowly, as if to savor the moment, he pushed the blunt head of his cock against your opening. A hand gripped your hip, and you felt the residual lube sleek against your skin._

_With more force, you opened around him, agonizingly slow._

_When you slowly started to accept him inside, you screamed, his cock stretching you far more than his fingers had, and you realized no amount of preparation was going to make this less painful._

_After what felt like an eternity, he bottomed out and you were gasping and panting, trying to breathe but not feeling like you could._

_“Fuck, if I would have known you were this tight, I would have fucked your ass days ago.”_

_You grunted when he pulled out, leaving only his head inside before thrusting back into you, and you screamed._

_He continued his slow but hard thrusts and you were a weeping mess under him._

_“Tell you what,” he groaned. “I’ll stop if you cum.”_

_“What?” You cried._

_“I’ll stop if you cum,” he repeated. “Or if you tell me what you know about Rumlow.” He picked up the pace, hammering into you hard enough to knock the wind out of you. “I can do this all day.”_

_It was a sadistic choice and he knew that. He knew you couldn’t cum, not with what he was doing to you, and you knew you had nothing on Rumlow._

_Your collapsed your arms, your face buried in the sheets below you, and with an uneasy hand, you reached down and found your clit, where you began to at least try getting off._

_“Fuck,” he moaned when he realized what you were trying to do._

_Quickly, he pulled out of you and you were flipped on your back. He gave you no time to think before he lifted your knees until they were near your shoulders and his cock was shoved brutally back into your ass, forcing a groan out of you._

_“Go on then. Let me enjoy the show.” He resumed his deep thrusts._

_Taking a deep breath, your hand found your clit again, and he smirked when your small fingers began to rub it so hesitantly._

_His eyes were glued to the scene, his cock thrusting in and out of your ass, your fingers desperately trying to stimulate your clit. He was breathing just as hard as you were, his normally slicked back hair was in his eyes, a testament to how much effort he was putting into your pain._

_When you started to cry because there was no way you were finding release, he chuckled darkly._

_“Oh baby, you’re trying so hard to be good.” He swatted your hand out of the way and snaked his arms around the outsides of your legs to keep them nestled between his elbows. He thumbed your clit, and at last, you felt one spark of pleasure shoot through you. He smirked when he felt you clench. “You don’t deserve to cum, but I’m feeling generous today, and you’ve been a good girl, taking me so well. Well, other than not telling me shit, but I can’t fault you for loyalty.”_

_He continued to rub your clit and you felt the pleasure rising within you._

_Your hands fell to the side of your body, near your hips where they almost brushed his knees. You fisted the sheets when you felt the tell tale signs of your impending orgasm._

_But just like he learned how to make your body sing, you learned how to drive him wild._

_And if there was one thing Steve loved, it was when you begged him to destroy you._

_“Please fuck me harder, sir,” you groaned._

_You could practically feel his cock twitch as he growled, “fuck, I didn’t even have to ask you to say it.”_

_His thrusts got faster, harder. It hurt more. It always hurt more, but he always finished faster if you encouraged him. More often than not, it was worth the extra pain if it meant it ended sooner._

_With a brutal thrust of his hips that had you screaming, he continued to rub your clit, and you weren’t sure if you could cum no matter how good he was at sending you over. But then you felt his fingers breech your pussy, immediately rubbing your g-spot, and that was enough._

_His cock in your ass, his fingers in your cunt, his thumb on your clit. You were done for._

_An orgasm hit you harder than it ever had, and you were sure your throat would be sore for a week with how loudly you screamed._

_“Fuck,” Steve moaned at the sight of you completely undone beneath him, tits bouncing with every hard thrust, and you felt the hot sear of his cum coating your insides._

_He let your legs fall to the side as he pulled his softening cock out of you before he crawled up to look at your tear streaked face. You felt his hair tickling your cheeks and forehead._

_“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He smirked and you looked away._

_He chuckled and buried his face into the crook of your neck before giving it a hard suck, sure to leave a mark among the healing bite marks, and let go with a pop._

_“I was planning on killing you as soon as you talked, but I might just have to keep you when this is all said and done,” he said against your sweat slicked skin, staying there for a moment before throwing his clothes back on, sweeping his hair back, and leaving._

***

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mind racing with the millions of unknowns the future had in store for you, for your baby. Well, you knew what your fate would be. The infant in your arms was another story, and it pained you even more to not know what would happen to her. She was your entire world, the only thing in your shell of a life that mattered anymore. 

She started to fuss in your arms and you realized you were holding her a little too tight. 

"I’m sorry, baby,” you cooed. “You hungry?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment! I love hearing feedback!


	3. Days 63-116

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: 18+, NONCON, smut (rough sex, oral), violence (general rough treatment, descriptions of wounds, threats, starvation), captivity, pregnancy (mild descriptions of child birth), angst (general apathy towards life, a very sad reader), low self image issues

_Day 63._

_You were in hell for 63 days._

_Steve had stopped interrogating you about Rumlow when it became apparent you wouldn’t talk, no matter how hard he fucked you. When he threatened to kill you or cut off limbs, you simply stared at him, eyes blank, and for once he looked a little unnerved. Had you been capable of feeling anything remotely close to joy, you would have smirked at that._

_You became like some sort of living stress toy for him, something he could fuck his anger into after a long day doing whatever it was he did- committing crimes, probably._

_The days were formulaic. You’d hear the door open, you’d sit on the edge of the bed in some sick Pavlovian response, you would hear the thuds of footsteps down the stairs, he’d enter the room, he’d use you, then he’d leave._

_But on day 63, you heard the door open with a furious slam against the adjacent wall. His footsteps were louder, angrier. You scrambled to the edge of the bed, your survival instincts kicking in._

_‘Do what he wants and maybe he won’t hurt you,’ the voice in your head told you.  
_

_When you finally saw him, your brows furrowed. He looked awful._

_Bloodied knuckles, a bruised cheek, a split lip, and general disheveled appearance._

_“Sir?” You asked. “Are you okay?”_

_“Do I fucking look okay?” He growled at you as he removed his suit jacket revealing a large bloodstain surrounding a tear in his shirt. He shrugged off the rest of his clothes, and you saw the gash at his side. It didn’t look too deep, but it was definitely more than a scratch._

_He pushed you onto the bed, and you were surprised he still wanted to have sex in his current state._

_“Sir, I don’t think this is a goo-”_

_His hand wrapped around the column of your throat and squeezed. You’ve long since stopped trying fighting him, knowing there was nothing you could do but wait for him to stop himself from taking things too far._

_“You’re not supposed to think at all. You’re just a warm hole for me to fuck,” he sneered into your face. “We finally got Bucky back. He’s in bad shape, and I’m just about ready to kill you right now so you better shut the fuck up.”_

_You let him move you around; there was no use resisting, and you didn’t want him to use the belt or crop on you. He pushed your thighs apart and buried his face into your neck. You felt his fingers run through your folds, teasing your clit, and you were surprised he didn’t just push his way into you without any preparation._

_He continued, and you held in a small moan when he slipped two fingers in you, your channel slick from his ministrations. He ran over that spot inside you that had you fisting the sheets under you. When you were close to the edge, he lined himself up at your entrance. He slowly pushed into you, as if he wanted you to feel every bit of him. You sighed when you felt him bottom out, and before you could brace yourself, he started a brutal and punishing pace._

_Any sort of gentleness he showed you earlier was gone. You could feel his anger in the way he hammered into your cunt, making sure to hit your cervix every time in a way that made you cry out until your throat was raw._

_Your arms were still at your sides, small hands gripping onto the sheets, but he grabbed both of them and wrapped his hand around your wrists where he held them down above your head. He used his other hand to lift one of your legs over his shoulder so he could thrust deeper in you._

_You couldn’t stop the orgasm that hit you, and it only seemed to encourage him._

_He looked at you below him, eyes wild, and he let go of your wrists so he could grip your hips. You let your hands fall to either side of your head. His fingers dug into your skin, and y_ _ou whimpered, trying not to move and make it worse._

_You felt him cum deep inside you with a low rumble of a groan, and his movements slowed down until he stilled above you, his weight pushing you into the mattress where the hard coils pressed into your back. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his hot breath against your skin, his breathing labored and slow, his muscles rippling into your chest with every rise and fall of his._

_He had been far more rough with you in the past, and you were a little surprised he didn’t take out more of his aggression on you. You could only assume this meant he would do that in another way, and you trembled a little at the thought._

_He propped himself up on a elbow after he felt you shaking ever so slightly under him, and looked at you. You looked away, afraid to see his expression. You knew him well at this point, and you knew what every glare and jaw tick meant. You knew which ones resulted in your pain, and you didn’t want to know what he had in store for you._

_He grabbed your chin with remarkable gentleness and turned your face to look at his._ _You expected fury, rage, hatred. Instead, you saw something you couldn’t quite place._ _He stared at you for a moment, the only sound in the room your combined breaths._

_“Why won’t you tell me who gave you that glass?” He nearly whispered it, the smallest waver in his voice._ _He was almost pleading with you._

_You opened your mouth and a faint spark of hope flickered in his eyes before you snuffed it out by closing your mouth and shaking your head slightly._

_“I don’t know who, I’m sorry.”_

_You expected him to tie you down, lash your back._

_Instead, he took a deep breath in before getting up and leaving after haphazardly throwing his clothes on._

_You stayed there for a few minutes, a little too dazed to move. You wondered why he hadn’t hurt you. He’d done far worse for far less of an infraction. But then tears started to pool in the corners of your eyes, flooding over in delicate little drops down the sides of your face._

_You realized what you saw in his eyes._

_Sorrow. Fear._

_You didn’t know what was worse: that he gave you a small piece of himself in his vulnerability, or that you felt a twinge of sympathy for him because of it._

_‘He’s a monster,’ you told yourself, refusing to look at him any differently._

_You began to wonder how you escaped any punishment, but you would realize he had already started it._

_He left you alone for nearly two weeks, and you had run out of food partway through._

_You had nothing but water for several days, and with nothing to distract you, hunger consumed your every thought._

_When you finally heard the door open, you were barely conscious, already weakened from your general living conditions, the short bout of starvation only adding to it._

_You felt him pour broth into your mouth, and didn’t remember much of anything else._

_Several hours later, you woke up with a little more energy. Slices of plain bread and a cup of what you assumed was apple juice on sat the counter._

_The locked top dresser drawer was open and empty._

_Somehow, you weren’t comforted by that._

_***_

_Later that day, he came in to check on you and was surprised to find you awake._

_His forearm was wrapped in gauze but you could tell the blood seeping through was getting bigger. Whatever wound was under there was too big to be patched up with bandages alone._

_“You probably need stitches for that, sir,” you quietly said._

_“I’m aware. The doctor is a little busy right now.” The way his jaw was tense, you could tell the doctor was still tending to Bucky. Whatever happened to him must have been bad if he was still in critical condition._

_You knew you had to tread very lightly, not wanting to take another two weeks of isolation._

_You bit your lip, and carefully you said, “I can do it.”_

_While you didn’t want to help him, you were desperate feel like something other than a sex toy. You never got to be a nurse, and you would do anything to feel like a person again._

_He thought about and left, which was expected. But when he returned with a med kit in hand, you were shocked he’d taken you up on it._

_You got up, a little light headed, and motioned for him to sit on the bed while you washed your hands._

_He sat at the edge and you unwrapped the strip of gauze around his arm. The laceration was deep and you prodded the skin around the wound to feel for any infection._

_You jumped and squeaked a little when he grabbed one of your hands. He was much too fast for how big he was. His grip was strong, and you could feel your bones bending to their limit. Your eyes watered as a strained noise came out of your throat._

_“If I get even a hint that you’re planning something, I’ll break your hands,” his voice was low, cold. You knew he wasn’t bluffing._

_“I’m not going to try anything,” you said quietly, and he let go. You shook your hand, trying to get the blood flow back from the shock, wanting to be as steady as possible._

_Nurses aren’t taught how to stitch, but when you did your clinical hours at an ER, a slow morning resulted in one of the doctors showing you how. You practiced on a banana in the lunchroom._

_You weren’t going to tell Steve that was the extent of your ability._

_You prepared the sutures and carefully pulled his wound together. He barely reacted. If the many scars along his body were any indication, he was used to this._

_After tying the last suture, you cut the threads, and looked over your work._

_It wasn’t the best job, but it was better than nothing. Steve seemed to agree when he didn’t break your hands._

_He sat there for a moment, and you weren’t sure what he wanted._

_“I didn’t intend to leave you without supplies. A business trip delayed me,” he said, his gaze on the floor, avoiding your eyes._

_It wasn’t an apology, more of an explanation, and you didn’t know what to say. You had assumed he was punishing you. Maybe he was and this was just another mind game._

_“It’s okay.”  
_

_He left without another word._

_In the weeks that followed, you would tend to his wounds in addition to your job as his stress toy. While you hated the idea of helping him, it did make you feel like a person again, which was both a blessing and a curse. It just made you hang on a little longer._

***

Your daughter nursed from you, and you hummed “You Are My Sunshine.”

“You’d like the sun,” you whispered. “It’s bright, and you feel warm just standing in it. It’s radiant, like you.” You ran a finger down her soft cheek.

“I wish I could be there when you see it for the first time. I want to be there for everything,” your voice broke, trying to hold back tears. “But maybe, I can be around for your first words or steps. And if not, at least I got to see you smile.”

You talked to her a lot these days. It was strange at first, but after spending so many months with no company other than your tormentor, you found yourself enjoying your one sided conversations with her. You confessed your fears, your hopes, your dreams. She couldn’t understand you, and you knew that, but the way her bright eyes would stare back at you, you couldn’t help but hope she _felt_ what you said. 

“I know you won’t remember me, but I hope you dream of me. You’ll be what I can leave in this world, and I’m so lucky it’s you.” You nuzzled her face and she gave you a gummy smile. 

***

_Day 116._

_You thought you had been through the worst of Steve’s cruelty. In the days after Bucky was rescued, his rage seemed to lay dormant in him. You half wondered if Bucky had died, but you figured he’d have killed you if that happened._

_Things became more of a routine than before. He’d come in, fuck you, then leave. He wasn’t as aggressive as before; it was almost as though he was trying to enjoy himself. Or forget himself. You didn’t dwell on it too much._

_He still had you treat his “minor” injuries, once saying he goes to the doctor on his payroll for the bigger issues. Given you had tended to burns, stab wounds, lacerations, and gunshot wounds you had to wonder what he considered “major” injuries.  
_

_But just when you thought his cruelty was over, you found he’d done something far worse than anything he did before, and he wasn’t even trying._

_You felt sick throughout the week, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the flu or something else. You didn’t have any other symptoms, no fever, body aches, etc. The food you were given seemed fine- milk, eggs, bread, some fruit. But when you tried to assess what it could be, you thought about the last time you had your period. You assumed it went away due to the stress, but given Steve never used a condom and had a strong aversion to pulling out, you couldn’t ignore the possibility._

_The next time you saw him, you asked for a pregnancy test. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but he didn’t look angry, which was a relief._

_The following day, he gave you one._

_You came out of the bathroom, and he was still there, sitting on the bed. You were surprised he waited, expecting him to leave. But you supposed this news would affect him, too._

_“I’m pregnant,” was all you could say blankly as you held the stick with two pink lines._

_Surely this was the death of you. He had his fun, but there was no way he was going to keep you locked up with a baby, especially if he wasn’t getting information out of you._

_“Fuck,” he groaned._

_“What do you expect when you’ve spent the last several months cumming in me.” You could blame the hormones for that one, never one to provoke anyone, even before Steve had trained that out of you._

_He glared at you._

_“Careful baby, you’re walking on very thin ice.”_

_You nearly rolled your eyes. He acted as if he had nothing to do with it._

_“What are we going to do?” You whispered._

_Steve chuckled darkly._

_“ **I’m** going upstairs. **You’re** going to stay here.”_

_“You can’t keep me down here with a baby!” You yelled, and he was on you immediately._

_You dropped the stick when he threw you on the bed, and you landed on your back with a small grunt. He crawled on top of you._

_“You don’t get to call the shots, sweetie. Your cunt’s still good until that baby comes out and after that, you still have your mouth while you heal. You understand?”_

_Meekly, you nodded and gasped when you felt the hardening length of his cock pressing against your stomach._

_You had long since known mercy was something Steve was hardly capable of, and though his temper had quelled over the weeks, it was as though he needed to remind you of your place. You laid under him while he fucked you, the positive pregnancy test on the floor where you dropped it._

_When he finished, he gave you an odd look. It looked like regret, but you were certain he was incapable of feeling that. Still, you felt compelled to brush the hair away from his eyes in some sort of comforting gesture, but didn’t._

_You were losing your mind._

_He got off you carefully, sparing you one last glance before he sighed and left._

_Prenatal vitamins became a part of your weekly supply drop._

_***_

_A couple days into your pregnancy, you realized if you asked for something, Steve would give it to you. He always made you “work” for it, but given he would fuck you near constantly anyway, you were sure he was just trying to remind you that as long as he “owned” you, nothing in your life ever came for free._

_The first thing you asked for was a book. You weren’t expecting to find one sitting on your dresser the next morning, the finger shaped bruises on your hips just starting to form from the night before, the result of you “working” for it._

_You half expected him to give you a car manual or something equally terrible, but you were pleasantly surprised to find A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens._

_After that, you asked for a thicker blanket since the dungeon you resided in was perpetually cold, and you wanted to be a bit more comfortable as the pregnancy progressed._

_When you fell asleep wrapped in the plush blanket and woke up to warmth for the first time in ages, you wondered why you hadn’t just asked earlier. Though, you weren’t sure if Steve would have been as generous several weeks ago._

_A portable heater was next. You were certain he’d ignore that request, but he gave you one a week later._

_Over the course of a couple weeks, you acquired better pillows, a clock so you’d finally know how time was passing, a couple more books, and finally a speaker or radio you could play music on._

_He almost didn’t let you have the last one, and you remember nearly passing out from his cock being shoved down your throat in an attempt to earn it.  
_

_The day after, he gave you a small CD player and a couple discs with classical music on them._

_That was just fine with you, though it did make the times he fucked you while it was playing a bit more dramatic. You’d have laughed if you were capable of that anymore._

_***_

_You half expected him to stop using you for sex, figuring your growing belly would make you less appealing to him. He made it clear he didn’t find you attractive when you looked your best. With your pregnant belly, you figured he found you even more repulsive._

_While he wasn’t around more often, his visits outside of needing minor medical attention remained the same. But you also figured sex wasn’t something he took from you because he wanted it. As much as you loathed to admit it, he was undeniably a handsome man, and probably had a rolodex of models he could summon at any moment._

_He fucked you to punish you, so you supposed it didn’t matter how you looked._

_To your absolute dismay, you found yourself craving his touch when you were partway through your second trimester. Maybe not his touch specifically, but he was the only person you ever interacted with. You heard pregnant women tended to feel more aroused since their hormones go haywire, but you hadn’t realized how much it would hit you. He never complained, instead seeming amused about how wanton you could be. You hated that he found some twisted joy in making you cum around him multiple times. You supposed there were worse things he could do to you._

_Your breasts were fuller, and he enjoyed groping them more, despite your whines that they were too sensitive. It only seemed to encourage him, because of course it would._

_He stopped fucking you a week before you were due, but only because the doctor told him to stop or be gentler, saying the stress could cause you to go into an early labor. You were okay with that, if only to stop being pregnant. You didn’t understand how some women enjoyed the experience. You absolutely hated it, though it could have been because you were locked in a basement._

_Dr. Banner was the doctor on Steve’s payroll, and you were surprised how kind he was. He seemed too soft to be involved with organized crime, and you wondered if Steve had something on him, but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much._

_Steve brought him to check up on you shortly before you were due. You didn’t know what to say, partly because it had been months since you spoke to anyone other than Steve, and partly because you were afraid you’d say something wrong._

_“How are you feeling, miss?” Dr. Banner asked, hesitantly, like he realized it was a really dumb question._

_To say he was disturbed when he found you in your prison nearly ready to go into labor_ _would have been an understatement. He looked pale, aghast, when he took in your surroundings._

_“I feel just lovely,” you said with a completely blank expression that made him clear his throat._

_“Uh, right.” He began to examine you and made idle chit chat while Steve stood in the corner, watching. “I hear you’re the one who’s been tending to Steve when I’m away. I have to admit, you’ve done a good job. Where did you learn to stitch? Nurses aren’t trained to do that.”_

_“An ER doctor showed me how. I spent my lunch break practicing on a banana.”_

_From the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Steve’s lip twitch in a smirk, but you couldn’t tell._

_“Ah well, you’ve done well, especially given the circumstances. I would be delighted to have a nurse like you on my team,” Dr. Banner continued idly strike conversation while he took note of your vitals._

_“I’ll add ‘performs well in less than ideal situations’ on my resume,” you said._

_You heard Steve huff, and from the way Dr. Banner stilled, he did too._

_“Sorry,” the doctor said, realizing how insensitive his comment ended up being._

_“It’s okay,” you said softly. He meant well._

_***_

_Steve was present the day you gave birth, and was even in the room with you, though he didn’t do anything to help. You suspected he was just trying to make sure Dr. Banner didn’t try anything given the soft spot he had for you. Well, you weren’t sure if it was a soft spot, or just natural sympathy any normal person would have for you given your situation._

_After hours of pushing and pain that felt like every cell in your body was exploding, you heard a small cry._

_“It’s a girl.” You heard the doctor say.  
_

_Despite the agony you were in, despite the fear you had for your future, the little cry you heard sparked something akin to joy within you for the first time in months, even if it was small._

_Dr. Banner cleaned her as best he could and wrapped her in a blanket warmed by the heater. He handed her to Steve first, and the dread you felt numbed any pain you were experiencing._

_You half expected him to walk out of the room with her, not even letting you look at her._

_“Can I see her?” You asked weakly, too exhausted to project._

_Steve didn’t move, simply looked at your baby, until Dr. Banner reached his arms out for her. Steve reluctantly gave her to him, and the doctor gently placed her in your arms, propping you up with pillows as best he could._

_You didn’t know you could love something so intensely, and so immediately. Throughout your pregnancy, you had a difficult time bonding with the growing bump in your belly. In nursing school, you saw how women loved their babies even before they were born, but every fluttery kick she gave you, every time she moved, it was just a reminder that your life was never going to be the same._

_It almost made you sick._

_But the moment you held her, saw her wrinkly little face that looked so much like you and so different at the same time, it was like the gravity in the universe shifted. You were no longer grounded to this world, and instead, your whole life revolved around the little infant in your arms._

_“Hi there,” you smiled. You didn’t know you could do that anymore, but it came so naturally when it was for her._

_“She’s probably hungry. The first couple hours are really important for bonding,” Dr. Banner said. “You had a remarkably easy birth, so-”_

_“THAT was easy?” You balked at him._

_He laughed, “Comparatively, yes. Nothing tore, you’ll probably be able to walk later today. You’ll be really weak for the next week, but… you should heal just fine.” He turned to Steve. You forgot he was still in the room. “If anything happens, just give me a call. And no, uh, sexual relations for 6 weeks,” he mumbled the last part._

_You could practically hear Steve’s glare._

_You didn’t care. You tried to undo the front of the hospital gown the doctor had given you, but struggled since you were holding your baby, and every muscle in your body was running on empty._

_From the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Steve move towards you, but Dr. Banner rushed in before he could. He gently grabbed the infant and you thanked him. You opened the gown and Dr. Banner helped position her so she could latch on your nipple._

_“She might have a difficult time latching, sometimes babies don’t always-” he paused, “you probably know all this, sorry.” He sheepishly smiled. “Just take it easy for the next couple of days, okay?”_

_“Yeah well, I have nowhere else to be,” you said softly, staring at your baby in awe before giving him a glance._

_He gave you a look, his brows knitted in pity. You supposed it felt nice for someone to care about you again._

_“Thank you, Doctor,” you whispered, offering him the smallest smile in gratitude._

_He nodded and packed his tools up slowly, like he was waiting for Steve to leave first, just to prevent as much stress on you as possible._

_Steve didn’t budge, and with a sigh, Dr. Banner left._

_You were too tired to be tense, so you just ignored Steve, who silently stood near the kitchenette._

_After a few moments, you gently cleared your throat._

_“So what now, sir?” You asked._

_You glanced at him, and he bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and walking out without a word._

***

You hadn’t seen him since. Your weekly supply drops still appeared, so he must have done that while you were sleeping.

It wasn’t that long ago and still, it felt like several lifetimes away. 

You knew a baby couldn’t thrive in this environment, but you weren’t ready to say bye to her yet.

“I want as much time with you as possible,” you said as you swayed with her in your arms, “Claire de Lune” playing softly in the background.

You enjoyed your time alone with your daughter, and you were relieved she wasn’t a fussy baby. She really only cried if she was hungry, and even then, it was little whines as opposed to ear shattering screams.

You figured she was your reward for living through hell. 

While you were glad to have a break from Steve, you were worried why he hadn’t come to see you. You knew he couldn’t _use_ you, but you were concerned he didn’t seem to care to know his daughter. What did that mean for her?

“What do you think he’s planning?” You asked your infant as you gently bounced her in your arms.

“You don’t supposed he’ll let us go?” You said. “We could run off to a small town, and you’d get to see the outdoors, be around people, be in the fresh air, the sun.”

You shook your head, wondering why you were torturing yourself with fruitless dreams.

“I know you can’t stay here. But I don’t think I can ever say goodbye.” You nuzzled her and she smiled. “Am I a bad mom?”

She yawned and you gave her a gentle smile.

“Whoever gets to have you after me is going to be so lucky. You’re perfect.”

You rocked with her for a few moments longer.

“I’m giving you all I can though. It’s not much, but, I hope you’re happy.”

You sighed.

“One day, I’ll let the world have you, but I want to spend as much time with you as possible until then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just fucking do a title drop? I sure did.
> 
> I reworked this chapter several times. It was originally a LOT darker, and Steve did some really despicable things, but I think I did enough to show how much of an asshole he could be in chapters one and two. I don’t really like how this chapter turned out. It feels rushed, but I also didn’t want to make it twice as long. I just hope people aren’t disappointed by it. I certainly am.
> 
> Anyway, please feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you, especially about this chapter. Because I hate it.


	4. Three Weeks to Three Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: 18+, referenced NONCON, referenced violence, captivity, like, a lot of angst (a very sad reader), low self image issues

The baby was three weeks old, and she was getting more alert with every day that passed. She hit every early milestone, and seemed far ahead of where other infants were, based on what you recalled from your child development classes.

She liked to shriek when she was happy, and she liked to smile. Well, you assumed she was smiling. It was more of a face scrunch, but she looked happy. She loved your voice, often staring at you intensely when you talked. Maybe, just maybe, if you talked to her enough, she’d hear your voice when she dreamed. 

She looked so much like you, and so much like Steve. You were worried the parts of her that reminded you of him would cause you to be put off by her, but that ended up being a pointless concern. It didn’t matter who she looked like. She was your little angel, perfect and sweet, and nothing could change that. 

The morning was spent nursing her, and holding her while you ate an apple and a slice of toast. You had become accustomed to routines with Steve, and you were glad the one you had with her felt natural. Your worries no longer stemmed from trying to make sure a volatile man was less aggressive, and became focused on making sure your baby had everything she needed. It was nice. You felt like you had a purpose again, a real one, one that made it worth… _being_. 

You were in the middle of reading to her in preparation for nap time, her eyes drooping slowly with the lull of your voice.

“Yeah, Herman Melville puts me to sleep too,” you whispered as she finally dozed off. You gently carried her to her crib where you set her down. She’d be asleep for awhile. While she wasn’t a fussy baby and was easy to pacify, you were still tired from needing to feed her every couple of hours, and a nap sounded appealing. 

All thoughts of rest vanished when you heard the door creak open. 

It was softer than usual, like Steve was trying to be quieter, but it did little to prevent the cold shudder that flowed from your spine to the rest of your body through the icy river of your veins. The thuds of his footsteps down the stairs followed, each one jolting your heart, and you found yourself unable to move. When he finally appeared, he looked the same as he always did. It hadn’t been long since you last saw him, but it certainly felt like a lifetime ago. 

You stood by the crib, fingers playing with the frayed hem of your tank top.

“Hi,” was all you could think of to say. 

Steve nodded at you and sat on the bed. 

You had hoped he was injured, if only so you’d know why he was there. But he wasn’t. 

You weren’t sure what he wanted. The patterns that kept you as safe as possible while under his control no longer applied, and it terrified you to have to figure out what he expected of you. When it was just you, you could take the trial and error, even when every error was met with a punishment of some kind.

But now you had a little life you needed to look after, and you didn’t know if Steve would do anything to her to spite you. The possibility alone terrified you.

She was just as much him as she was you, so you hoped he’d spare her.

“Sir?” You finally asked after a moment of tense silence. 

His blue eyes glanced at you, waiting for you to speak.

“What would you like me to do?” You asked. 

He paused for a moment, his blue eyes simmering with something beneath the surface that you couldn’t put a finger on. You saw him angry, you saw him bored, irritated, and once or twice, you saw him sad. You didn’t know what he was feeling, and it put you on edge. 

He wasn’t angry though. You knew what every version of anger looked like on him.

“Just sit next to me,” he said after a moment.

Hesitantly, but not wanting to provoke him, you did as he asked. You kept a couple inches apart from him, back perfectly straight.

“Have you been well?” You asked him, the tense silence was only adding to the trepidation that festered in your heart.

You heard a quiet rumble in his throat, and you realized he had laughed even if it was ever so small. 

“I’m not the one who just had a baby.” 

It might have been a joke but you were too afraid to laugh in case it was the wrong response. You weren’t sure what to do. You rubbed the rope burn scars around your wrists, nervous.

You jumped a little when you felt his hand envelope yours, stilling you.

“Sorry,” you murmured. 

“It’s okay,” he said. 

Nothing was ever _okay_ to him, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you had done something wrong. You could feel every heart beat, aware of every breath you took, and could feel your joints creaking with how rigid you sat. Panic lingered around the corner, ready to pounce on you the moment you let your guard down. He was being very unusual, and it unnerved you more than when he was angry. With anger, you knew what to anticipate. You didn’t know what to expect here.

“How are you feeling?”

He’d never asked how you were, but you’d never given birth to his child before so this was all uncharted territory. You tried to gauge what he wanted, but he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes focused on where your knee nearly touched his.

You figured he wanted to know if you were well enough to have sex again, because he didn’t look injured, nor was he dropping off supplies, and there was nothing else he ever wanted from you. You weren’t healed enough and wouldn’t be for several more weeks. But you didn’t want to deny him something he wanted. It never ended well for you.

“I’m okay,” you nearly whispered. “I um,” you paused, “I can use my mouth, if that’s what you want, sir?”

You figured there was really no subtle way to put it.

He tensed up, and you responded the same. Was that the wrong thing to say? You found yourself struggling to breathe despite how fast your heart pounded. 

“No, it’s okay. Just… rest up,” he finally said before leaving the room.

You gasped, not realizing you hadn’t been breathing. 

You had no idea what just happened.

A hand ran over your belly. He couldn’t have found you desirable at the moment, if he ever did to begin with. Three weeks postpartum was enough for your stomach to go back down, close to where it was before you got pregnant, though it was still soft in the middle and would be for awhile. 

You felt silly for even thinking he wanted you like that.

It would be a couple days before you saw him again, and it was when he dropped off supplies for the week. You were surprised he didn’t do it while you were sleeping like he had been, seemingly to avoid you. Were you that repulsive to him?

How appealing he found you never bothered you before, because it never stopped him from taking from you what he wanted. But you knew his anger would subside eventually, if it hadn’t already, and he’d stop fucking you for punishment. If he didn’t want you outside of wanting to hurt you, he’d have no more use for you, and you weren’t ready to part with your daughter. Your skillset as a nurse was a bonus, but he didn’t _need_ you.

You knew he’d take her away eventually. If not for her own sake, then just to cause you more pain. 

Until then, she was yours. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to stay with you as long as possible,” you whispered to her after he left without saying much.

***

A few more days went by without seeing Steve, and you tried your hardest to stay distracted, which just involved a lot of pacing around.

Deciding you needed to get your mind away from everything, you read stories from a collection of Hans Christian Anderson fairytales. It was the only book you specifically asked for, wanting something to read to your daughter that was a little more kid appropriate. Even though you knew she couldn’t understand you either way, and you were likely not going to be around when she was old enough to appreciate it, you still wanted to give her the best you could. 

You sat cross legged on the bed, a flat pillow in the hollow of your legs, where your baby was gently cradled. Finally deciding on The Little Mermaid, you read out loud to her. She stared at you the entire time, not fussing or crying. 

She really was an easy baby to take care of. Maybe she knew you needed as much help as possible.

“She just jumped into the ocean and turned into seafoam because of love,” you mused to your daughter as you finished the story. She responded by making spit bubbles. You laughed softly, a breathy whisper of a laugh, and gently wiped her mouth with a cloth.

“Don’t throw your life away for a man. It’s not worth it,” you hummed before quietly adding, “I just hope you get a choice in the matter.”

A few moments passed, and the two of you enjoyed the peaceful silence.

Of course, nothing in your life was ever _truly_ peaceful, and the moments of tranquility that were so rare were always ruined. You heard the door opening and you tensed up. It wasn’t time for him to drop off supplies, so you hoped he was injured, not wanting to go through the mental gauntlet like you had a few days ago.

Placing the baby in the crib, you finally saw him as he entered the room.

He looked hurt and he was carrying the med kit; you must have looked elated.

“Don’t look too relieved,” he said, the tiniest bit of levity in his voice. 

“Oh, no, I-,” you were flustered.

“It’s fine, just patch me up,” his voice was calm, so you hoped you didn’t anger him too much.

You assessed the damage. He had a rather deep laceration on his ribs, but other than that, he looked just fine. His hair wasn’t even disheveled. Usually with a wound that severe, he was visibly banged up.

“What happened, sir?” You asked. He would usually answer any small inquiries you had if he was feeling up to it. If not, he would ignore you.

He was silent for a moment, so you assumed he wasn’t going to say anything.

You jumped a little when he spoke suddenly, glad you didn’t pull any of the stitches you had placed.

“Bucky stabbed me.”

You paused. There were a couple of things. One, Bucky was still alive, and while you assumed as much since you were too, it was the first time Steve spoke about him since the day he was rescued. Two, why did he stab him?

You missed the way the corner of Steve’s mouth twitched, almost in amusement at your reaction.

“He got a new prosthetic arm the other day,” he said as though he read your mind. “He wanted to try his knife skills out with it. I’d say he’s doing just fine.”

Steve never offered as much information up, but he seemed to be in a good mood despite his injury. 

“He… lost an arm?” You felt bold enough to ask. You remembered the day and the ones that followed when they rescued Bucky. Steve mentioned he was in bad shape. You hadn’t realized how bad.

Steve hummed in confirmation. 

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured, but immediately regretted it in case it sounded like an admission of guilt.

Steve didn’t say anything and you resumed stitching him up, trying your best not to shake too much, your thoughts running wild, wondering if you had crossed a line.

“He got a really state of the art prosthetic. It attaches to his nerves so he can move it around like a real arm. He’s getting used to it.”

It was the most he said to you outside of asking you about Rumlow or tearing you down. 

“That’s really good,” you meant it. The pain Bucky must have gone through had you reeling a bit. 

The last of the sutures were tied, and you cut the threads. You ran a finger down the edge of the wound, trying not to apply too much pressure, making sure it was secure.

“Why…” Steve started but drifted off. “Why don’t you just say who gave you the glass?”

He said it so calmly, like he was genuinely confused instead of angry. His brows were furrowed, the skin between them pinched, and he looked almost remorseful. 

“I…” you sighed and shook your head while you rubbed the crook of your neck, feeling the bumpy scars that resided there.

“If only my men were half as loyal as you are to Rumlow,” his voice held the tiniest bit of acrid mirth, and you didn’t fail to pick up on it. 

“Dropping off the drink was the only time I had ever interacted with him,” you said. “I didn’t even know who he was before that.”

Steve’s jaw ticked, and you nervously ran a thumb over your wrist.

“You had to have gotten the glass from someone. Just say who,” again, he sounded less angry and more confused. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

“Why not? Are they so important to you that this,” he gestured around the room, his voice getting louder, “is worth suffering through?”

Staring at the floor, where the rough stone tiles were smashed together in senseless patterns, you shook your head and braced yourself for whatever wrath was going to follow.

Steve didn’t say anything as he put on his shirt and walked out of the room. 

You spent the following days worried he would come back in and punish you for your insolence. 

He didn’t.

***

Weeks went by and a new routine formed, one you that kept you on edge despite its predictable nature. 

Steve would come in to talk with you. That was it. 

He’d mention something about his day or talk about his colleagues. You learned more about him in those weeks than you had in the year you knew him.

Bucky was his childhood friend, practically his brother. He was captured in the raid that was orchestrated from the information Rumlow got from the encrypted glass you gave him, and even though you had nothing to do with it, you still felt guilty. Steve didn’t seem to press you about it since the day Bucky stabbed him. You had to wonder if he found out about Bailey. But he never asked you about her, nor did he let you go.

Though, you had to assume after everything he did to you, he couldn’t let you go.

Still, you were grateful he no longer seemed to want to hurt you. 

A stab wound on his leg brought him in one day. It was rather deep, and you were afraid there wasn’t much you could do other than stitch the top and apply pressure to the wound.

“I can thank Sam for this one,” Steve winced as you leaned into the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Sam?”

“One of my colleagues. A friend. Met him… a while back, when I was first coming up in this business. He’s,” Steve paused before he cracked a small smile, “he’s a good guy. A little cocky at times, but funny, loyal. He missed a guy during a spot check, but I guess it wasn’t his fault the guy knew how to throw knives.”

Another day, when you were looking over some fingers, gently moving them around to test if they were broken, Steve talked about a woman named Nat.

“She’s one of my best. Strong, smart, charming. Very few people know she even exists. Men tend to underestimate her because she’s a beautiful and petite woman. It’s a bad mistake to make.” 

You were surprised he knew a woman he considered his equal.

“Your fingers aren’t broken, I don’t think, but you should still check with a doctor.”

That was another change. You stopped calling him ‘sir,’ and while you never called him ‘Steve’ either, preferring not to call him anything, he didn’t seem to care.

He tried to ball his hand in a fist and winced a little.

“What even happened there?” You asked.

“I punched a door.”

You paused.

“I hope it deserved it.”

“It did,” he said with a small smile. 

He told you about Tony Stark on a day where he wasn’t injured. He sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen area while you remained on the bed, your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them.

“Guy’s a cocky son of a bitch, but he’s a powerful man to be allied with.”

“Wait, Tony Stark, the weapons developer?” 

“The one and only.”

“I didn’t know he was part of your, uh, _business_.”

“Not many do,” Steve hummed.

“Is that where Bucky got his robot arm?” 

Steve smirked a little and nodded. 

While it was nice to actually talk to someone for once, you were disturbed by how much you looked forward to it, because it was Steve, and you hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to you. But, you also hadn’t realized how lonely you had become. While you loved talking to your daughter, it was a one sided conversation. 

But as the weeks went by and you learned a little more about him, the uneasiness in this new pattern that never left the back of your mind started to creep into the forefront. Why was he telling you all of this?

Did he have no more use for you as his stress toy, and if so, what purpose did you serve him? Surely he wouldn’t keep you around just to have someone to talk to. Especially since he seemed close to his friends. 

Even more unsettling, he would ask questions about yourself. You were always weary to respond, not knowing if his recent mercy was to get more information out of you, information he could use to hurt you, now that he’d seemed to have gotten bored of his previous methods.

“Why did you want to become a nurse?” 

It felt like a punch to the heart, because it was another reminder of something you couldn’t be in a world you no longer existed in.

“I wanted to help people,” you said after a moment.

Steve nodded, and you noticed he had that look you struggled to identify.

“Your family must have been proud,” he said. 

Have been.

You shook your head slightly, “I don’t really have one.”

“I’m not going to go out and hurt them, if you’re being intentionally vague.”

He was telling the truth, that much you could tell.

“No, I’m not,” your voice was soft. “I grew up in the foster care system. I was with the last family for 3 years before I aged out. I’m not close with them, and I’m sure they wouldn’t care to know I’ve been... missing.”

It was the most you ever said about yourself.

On another day, when you tended to a minor burn he sustained on his arm, you had the courage to ask him a question that had plagued you for months.

“Do your colleagues know I’m… here?” 

You felt the muscles in his forearm flex under your hand, where you applied a salve over the burn. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” you quickly said, hoping he’d go easy on you.

He hadn’t actually hurt you since before you gave birth, but you didn’t want to find out if he still wanted to.

“They know I took you, yes,” Steve finally said at last. “They don’t know about…” 

He glanced over to the crib where your baby slept. She was almost three months old, so much bigger and stronger in the short amount of time you had her. Steve never asked about her, and rarely acknowledged her.

The one question that plagued you since she was born was on the tip of your tongue, and you figured it was now or never.

“What’s going to happen to her?”

You heard him sigh deeply, as though he thought about it as much as you did.

“She can’t stay here forever,” he said at last.

You knew that, and even if he didn’t plan on taking her away, you were going to beg him to do that at some point, so she could grow up in the world where she belonged. But hearing it from him made it real, and your heart broke in a way that you didn’t think it was capable of doing anymore. 

“I know,” you said, barely a whisper. Tears welled in your eyes before a few dropped down your face. It wouldn’t be the first time Steve saw you cry, but it was certainly the most pained. “I just want as much time with her as possible.”

Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you quickly wrapped his arm, just wanting him gone so you could cry alone. 

“What’s her name?” Steve finally said.

You shook your head. “I haven’t given her one.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t... think of anything,” you lied. 

Steve stood up, but before he could take more than a few steps, you had to ask.

“What will you do when you take her away? Will you leave her at a hospital or-”

“Half of her is me. I wouldn’t give her away,” Steve said, his voice firm, but not unkind. 

You nodded. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t worried about that,” he mused bitterly.

“You defend the people you love,” you said. The scars along your body and the fact you hadn’t seen the sun in over a year was proof of that. “You haven’t spent a lot of time with her, but I know you’ll love her. I can’t imagine anyone not.”

He held your gaze for a moment, and you recognized the sorrow in it. 

“How can you trust that after…” 

When he didn’t finish, you sighed, a waver in your throat where unspoken mourning rested. 

“I don’t have a choice.”

He nodded and left the room, and you crumbled onto the floor, sobbing.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I HATE THIS CHAPTER. Like, I KNOW Steve’s personality took a 180 degree turn, and it looks like bad writing because it IS, but I swear there’s a reason for it. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who has expressed interest and left kudos/comments. It’s really amazing that so many of you like it, and I hope you all continue to stick around!


	5. Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: 18+, DUBCON, smut (f-receiving oral, lactation kink (kinda... there’s like, one line about it, but warning just to be safe)), Stockholm syndrome, Lima syndrome, referenced noncon, referenced violence (mentions of torture), captivity, angst (panic attack, a very sad reader, low self image issues)

The baby was nearly five months old, and her personality flourished with every passing day. She was smart, alert, and curious. Her laughter and smiles became your only source of light, your ray of sunshine in the small room you had called home for over a year.

She was starting to crawl, or at least she was trying to. The floor was too rough for her delicate hands and knees so you had to keep her on your bed for tummy time. Though it was lumpy and hard, it was just soft enough that it made it difficult for her to push herself up.

More of such challenges had begun to pop up. Your little sunshine was still easy to take care of, usually happy, rarely fussy. It was trying to meet the needs of her growing mind as she became more aware of the world that became difficult. .

Asking Steve for toys or other enrichment for her was an option, but he might have seen that as a sign she needed leave. You entertained that thought, when you laid in bed, your baby cuddled in your arms. She was quickly outgrowing what you could provide for her alone, and you fought an internal battle. One side earnestly wanting to keep her forever, the other saying it was better if you let her go and you were being selfish for keeping her locked up with you. 

It hurt too much to consider. 

The less pressing concern was the possibility he might make you “work” for it. More specifically, it was how that thought didn’t disturb you as much as it should have. After all, if he still wanted you intimately, he might keep you around longer. 

But a part of you, one that you ignored every time it spoke up in your mind, was starved for affection. Your daughter gave you plenty with the way she smiled at you and grabbed your face and giggled, but you hungered for a different kind, and it started taking root over the past several weeks. 

The way Steve touched you in the past wasn’t affection, you _knew_ that. But somehow, you felt lonelier now that he was talking to you more and hadn’t expressed interest in anything else since you gave birth. 

He had never desired you, even before, but you could pretend. 

And then you’d remember who he was and what he did to you.

So you pushed those feelings far away.

Instead, you made paper cranes from pages you ripped out of Moby Dick and strung them on string, where you dangled them on a tightwire of thread you tied across the top of her crib; a makeshift mobile. She seemed to like it. She kept herself entertained by shredding the rest of Moby Dick, or playing with your rolled up socks. 

Steve asked about the cranes when he saw them.

“She’s getting more curious,” was all you could say, trying to keep things vague.

“Why didn’t you just ask for a mobile?” 

Not wanting to bring up the possibility it was time for her to leave, you gave him your second concern.

“I… wasn’t sure if you wanted anything-” you felt your face flush. 

He nodded, seeming to understand what you meant. 

You quickly added, “But if you do, I will-”

“No, it’s fine.” 

He left, whatever reason he’d come to visit you no longer important, and he didn’t return the next day. Perhaps he was disgusted by the thought of touching you. 

He didn’t return for a while, nor did he show up on the day he normally drops off food. 

You didn’t have enough supplies to last more than a day, so you wondered if he was just late.

But then two days went by and he still hadn’t appeared.

You knew adult humans could survive weeks without food if they had water.

It wasn’t yourself that you were concerned about; you were still nursing your baby. It took up a lot of energy, and you didn’t know how long you would hold out.

Steve starved you for a week once, after they rescued Bucky. It was an accident then, or so he says. Was this another accident?

All the previous conversations you had with him over the weeks raced through your mind. You tried to think if there was ever a time you could have offended him and brought this on. You’d joked with him a few times and he gave you a small laugh. Had you actually angered him?

Would he really make you watch your baby starve to death? He couldn't possibly be _that_ cruel.

The night of day two, you heard the door open, and you nearly cried in relief.

The footsteps down the stairs seemed more urgent in their cadence. Steve looked a bit flustered, if you squinted hard enough. He placed a bag on the counter, food you assumed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t look at you, his palm on the edge of the counter as he leaned into it. “I didn’t mean to be away that long.”

For all the sins he’s committed against your body and your soul, he’s never apologized or shown any remorse for his actions, and he’d done far worse to you in the past. But here he was, his usually proud shoulders slumped slightly, his brows furrowed. He had that look you could never quite figure out.

You were too stunned to say anything.

"Work had me away for longer than I was expecting," he glanced at you.

_Regret._

That was the look.

You were afraid any spoken word on your part would shatter the delicate veil of mercy that had graced you. 

“You need to eat something,” he said after a moment of silence. 

"I will.”

He nodded and left.

***

Steve left you alone for a few days after. You weren’t sure if it was because he felt guilty, or if he was getting bored of you.

Then, one night, after your baby had fallen asleep, he quietly entered the room. You were in bed, rereading Wurthering Heights when you saw him approach you.

He gently took the novel and placed it on the dresser. With a soft push, he laid you down and climbed over you, blue eyes peering at you from above. He looked at you almost tenderly as he brushed a stray hair away from your face. 

Your breath hitched, and part of you was mentally screaming at yourself, telling you it was wrong.

So you didn’t think about it.

You were lonely. 

You were lonely, and he was being _gentle_ , and he hadn’t hurt you in a while.

_Don’t think about it._

You placed your hand over his, and he let go of a small sigh.

“Do you want this?” he asked. 

You wondered. _Did you?_

Would he stop if you didn’t?

The warmth radiated off his hand as he cupped your face, his fingers rubbing against your scalp. It felt like affection. It felt like desire. Even if it wasn’t, he asked this time, and you could pretend. So you decided, _yes_. You wanted this.

You nodded slightly, and it was enough for him.

With an exhale, he undressed quickly. He helped you take off your clothes before you laid back down, under him, waiting. 

He put his face into the crook of your neck, and you heard him inhale deeply. His hand drifted downward, and you felt his calloused fingers brush your delicate folds, gently prodding around until he found your clit. He rubbed it in a way that made you a mess every time.

Your breath picked up, and your hips began to rock ever so slightly. He groaned into your neck when he felt you respond to him, and you heard him breathe a little harder when he felt your pussy begin to weep. You ran a hand through his hair, and he let in quiet gasp, one you wouldn’t have heard if his face wasn’t so close to your ear. 

_Don’t think about it._

He drifted down your body leaving open mouthed kisses in his path until you could feel his breath on your mound.

Your legs twitched and you tried to close them.

While you knew childbirth didn’t really affect how things would look, you still felt embarrassed. After all, he hadn’t expressed any interest in you sexually since then. What if he changed his mind?

Steve must have felt you tense up, and he rubbed your thighs with his thumbs where he gripped you.

“Still as pretty as ever,” he murmured, and before the blood could reach your face, his tongue ran through your folds. You ran your hands through his hair and you heard him moan just a little, as though he missed the way you tasted. 

You felt him suck your clit into his mouth, and you failed to hold in a small gasp when he lashed the tip of his tongue at it. 

It didn’t take long for you to start writhing under him, keening, out of breath, where he took you over the edge, not stopping until your pussy was done fluttering, begging to be filled. You didn’t notice he had crawled his way back up to your face until you opened your eyes and saw his blue ones staring back at you.

He looked over you before he lined himself with your entrance. His gaze was soft, and it only amplified the feeling of him pushing inside you. 

A small whimper escaped your throat, having not been used in so long. He stopped for a bit.

“Keep going,” you mewled. He didn’t need to be told twice and wasted no time pushing the rest of himself inside, his thick length stretching your silken walls.

You both stayed still for a moment, like he was giving you time to adjust. You didn’t know why he was being so careful, and you were prepared for it to change at any moment, but until then, you just wanted to feel _good_. 

_Don’t think about it._

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” you heard him whisper into your ear, and you felt yourself clench around him. He groaned, likely feeling it too. “I’ll try to be gentle, but fuck, it’s been so long.”

His hips began to roll, his thick cock nearly leaving your channel before thrusting it back in. He fell into a slow rhythm, each thrust was hard, deep. You heard his small grunts, his face resting against your neck. A large hand gripped your side, under one of your breasts, and he used his other to lift himself up. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder so he could push into you even deeper, his cock hitting the spot he knew would have you undone beneath him.

Your orgasm hit you hard and your hands twisted into the sheets, your back bowed, your chest rising as you fluttered around his length, mouth agape as a choked sob escaped.

“Fuck, I missed watching you cum,” Steve groaned, his normally bright blue eyes were inky, like the ocean. He pressed a kiss onto the calf that was resting on his shoulder before he let your leg fall to the side. He dipped his head and latched onto a nipple. You mewled when you felt his tongue run over the stiff peak. He used his hand to massage the other breast, giving it a firm squeeze. You felt a few droplets of milk spill down your chest and that only made him fuck you faster. 

He let go of your nipple with a pop of his mouth as you began to come down from your high, your body becoming pliant under him as he continued to thrust into you.

You stopped a moan from coming out, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby.

“No, let me hear you,” he said with a particularly hard thrust that made it impossible for you to stifle the lustful cry it pushed out of you. 

You were surprised your baby hadn’t woken up, but he wasn’t making you scream or cry this time around. 

“You can give me another one,” he said and before you could shake your head, too sensitive from your last orgasm, he reached between your legs and strummed your overexcited clit with desperate need. 

The rising pressure in your core snapped and you came again. This time, you wrapped your arms around his chest, your nails digging into his back in a desperate attempt to hold onto to something, anything, as your body sang for him once more. 

He lost it. 

His thrusts turned barbaric, his gripped into your hips, and you knew you would be bruised the next day. You held onto him.

So much for gentle. 

He tried, though.

With a low rumble of a groan, you knew he was about to cum. He buried his face into the top of your head, groaning deeply, his breath hot against your scalp. As soon as you felt his cock twitch, you sighed and felt the familiar warm flood that followed as he coated your walls. 

He stayed in you, both of you out of breath.

Guilt started to creep in, and you felt tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

You shouldn’t have _wanted_ that.

He propped himself up and your arms fell to your side. He looked at you before cupping your face gently. You furrowed your brows, unsure what he wanted.

“It’s okay,” he hummed tenderly, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You held each other's gazes for a minute, wondering what happened next.

Of all the things your mind conjured, you weren’t expecting him to press his lips against yours. 

He had never kissed you before, the act far too intimate for what you were to him. 

You didn’t kiss him back, too bewildered to know how to react.

When he pulled away, he sighed, as though he knew what he did was crossing some unspoken line between the two of you.

He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, before closing it.

A moment passed and his head dipped a little when he let out a small sigh.

“You’re really beautiful,” he whispered.

You didn’t know if he was mocking you. He’d made it clear he didn’t find you attractive, on numerous occasions. 

“I’m a selfish asshole,” he said with a pained laugh, and you continued peering at him like he had lost his mind. “I wanted you one last time.”

You felt your heart stop. He was finally going to kill you.

“Please, I can-” you started.

“No, that’s not-”

You didn’t hear him, the sound of your heart beating too loud, a faint whistling in the background, your vision tunneling in. Everything around you seemed to constrict inward and you needed to grab your daughter and run away. You flailed under him, ignoring the words he said, trying to break away from the hold he had around you. 

But through the chaos in your head, you heard your little sunshine crying.

She needed you.

The room felt like it was expanding again, and you anchored yourself to her cries, getting out of the bed to hold her, soothe her. 

The moment she face pressed against your skin, she settled down.

You fell to the floor on your knees, vaguely aware of the sticky feeling as his cum leaked out of you.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you said weak, exhausted. 

“Get dressed,” was all Steve said as he did the same.

You put your daughter back in her crib and did as he asked, then waited for his next order. 

“Carry her and follow me,” he said as he walked up the stairs. 

Was he finally taking her away from you? Was he going to make you hand her over to him at the door? Was this cruelty or mercy, the gift of one last goodbye?

Is that what he meant by wanting you one last time? He was going to take her and leave you there to whither away.

Too many thoughts clashed and collided in your mind as you walked behind Steve, feeling lightheaded, like you were in a dream. Or a nightmare.

You stood at the top of the stairs, and the metal door that sealed you in your prison was open. 

Blue moonlight filtering through the windows to the side, bright, and so pure. It was dazzling. With all the dreaming you did of the sun, you forgot how beautiful the night could be.

Steve walked into the room, which looked like some sort of office. He leaned against a large desk, waiting for you to do… something. 

You remained on the other side of the threshold, and you looked over to him, questioning what he wanted of you.

“Is this where I say goodbye to her?” You whispered. 

Steve shook his head. 

“Come out.”

He wouldn’t actually...

“If this is some kind of test-”

“It’s not,” Steve sighed. 

You paused and he waited. 

A tentative step forward, followed by another, and another. Then, your feet hit a plush rug, the softest thing you’ve felt under your feet in what could have been a lifetime, and you shivered at the feeling of it.

Steve closed the door behind you, and slid a bookshelf over it, hiding it. 

“I don’t understand,” you were trembling.

“The baby can’t stay down there,” he paused, and shook his head slightly, “and I can’t take her away from you.” 

Your thoughts were racing, and you didn’t know if you could trust him, if this was some cruel joke to give you one last breath of hope before snuffing it out permanently and locking you away forever. 

“I can’t risk another time where I might be away longer than expected. If something happened to me... and given who I am, something _will_ happen to me one day, no one would know you two were down there, and you don’t de-” he paused and sighed. “Please, just, follow me.”

He led you out of the office into a corridor. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but Steve guided you to a set of nearby stairs, where you two ascended. The only sounds were your feet creaking in the aged wood and the anxious breaths you tried to keep under control. You emerged in a wing where he led you further down a hallway and opened a door.

The room it revealed was large, much larger than the dungeon you had lived in. The windows were wide, letting so much of the world inside, the full moon illuminated everything. 

The first thing you noticed was a bed, covered in plush pillows and a puffy comforter. Next to it was a crib.

“I’ll have the housekeeper come by with breakfast in the morning. The door to the left is a bathroom and the one to the right is a closet,” Steve motioned to the two doors on the wall opposite to the bed.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

You had too many.

“What am I supposed to do?” you said, dazed.

Steve gave you a broken laugh, the remorse laced through each sound. 

“Just be a mom.”

He left you alone.

You didn’t sleep that night, half expecting Steve to come in change his mind, tell you it was a joke, hurt you in some way. He didn’t, and soon, you saw the sky lightening up. 

Dark blue turned to purple grey until flecks of orange started peering up from the horizon.

The baby was still sleeping, so you gently picked her up, and she opened her eyes, whining a little bit. 

“Good morning sunshine, I know it’s early, but I don’t want you to miss this.”

She looked around, and you could tell she knew she was somewhere else. You cooed at her, bounced her in your arms, letting her know it was okay. 

Orange started to take over the sky, spreading into pink where it chased the night away. 

Before long, the ground was illuminated in the soft morning light, the sun peeking out from afar.

“Don’t stare directly at it, okay?” You whispered. 

As the world got brighter, more colors appeared, no longer masked by the shroud of night. The flowers in the garden revealed themselves in an array of spectacular hues, and you could practically see the morning dew glistening off their petals and leaves. 

You enjoyed the sunrise with your daughter, until the gold light of dawn faded, and the sky was bright blue.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see that again,” you told to her, your eyes watering. 

She flailed her arms and legs, excited at all the colors around her, at how bright the world could be. You realized, she hadn’t seen much color before, the prison you both called home drab and lifeless, bathing in the sickly glow of the one fluorescent light it had. It was all she knew. You hugged her close. 

“It would have been worth me staying down there knowing you’d love it out here so much,” you cuddled her. 

You nursed her, and she fell back asleep, having been woken up earlier than she normally did. With nothing else to do, you gazed out the window. You had too many thoughts, concerns, questions, and it played like static in your mind. 

A gentle knock broke you away from your trance. You weren’t used to privacy anymore. You hesitantly opened the door, and a middle aged woman with dark hair and kind smile greeted you.

“Hello miss, I’m Betty,” she paused before adding, “The housekeeper.” She was holding a tray of eggs, toast, fruit, and juice. “I just want to drop this off.”

She placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch that was situated between the bathroom and closet door. 

“Thank you,” you said, overwhelmed. 

She gave you a warm smile before leaving.

You ate breakfast and sat at the windowsill, looking at the garden below. You wondered if you could go outside, but you didn’t want to press your luck by asking. Could you even handle it?.

Betty came by a while later to pick up the tray, and soon after, your little sunbeam woke up. You cradled her in your arms, rocking her back and forth. She shrieked a little when a bird flew by the window, startled, but otherwise, she was happy. 

Another knock at the door took you out of your racing thoughts. 

“Come in,” you called, thinking it was Betty.

It wasn’t. Instead, you saw a woman with bright red hair. She was petite, beautiful. 

Nat. 

“Hi, you must be,” she paused. 

The sex slave? The prisoner? 

“Yes, I am,” you said, giving her an out. “You’re Nat, I’m guessing.”

“I take it Steve’s talked about me?”

“A little. All good things,” your voice was quiet, like you were afraid speaking too loud would wake you up from the dream you must have been in.

Nat stood there, shifting uncomfortably for a few moments, her brows knit in thought.

“Um. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know what he was... doing to you. If I did, I would have tried to stop it.”

You weren’t used to hearing sympathy, and you didn’t know how to react, still unsure if this was all a trap.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Nat said strongly, but eased off when she saw you flinch. “Steve’s always had a blindspot for Bucky. He’d do anything for him, but I didn’t think he’d go this far.”

Your baby squealed at her, likely taken with her red hair. Nat gave her a warm smile, but didn’t approach, giving you space.

“I’m here if you ever need help, okay?” Her voice was firm, but kind.

You gave her a polite nod before she left. 

No one else came to see you, other than Betty, who dropped off lunch and then dinner. 

You preferred it that way, needing a couple moments alone to collect yourself. You were always collecting yourself. 

Night time arrived once more, and your baby to sleeping, her beautiful face glowing under the moonlight. 

You got in the bed, trying to fall asleep, having not had any the night before.

It was like being swallowed alive. The bed was too soft. Too comfortable. 

You slept on the floor.

***

Two months would pass, and you hadn’t seen Steve since he let you out of the basement.

Your baby was 7 months old and was crawling everywhere. She kept you busy, and you realized you definitely couldn’t have kept her with you in your prison for much longer.

Nat introduced you to Sam a few weeks after you were let out. She was always with him when he came by to visit, probably concerned you would be afraid of men for a while.

You weren’t, not really, but you appreciated her thoughtfulness anyway.

Sam was every bit as charming as Steve described, which was a lot to take in at first. It took awhile for you to trust him, but your baby seemed to like him. 

Nat was easier to trust, having gone out of her way to build it with you by making sure you and your daughter had everything you needed, and being a consistent presence in your new life. Your daughter liked her a lot. 

The two of them offered to watch her for you so you could relax alone, and while you trusted they were _mostly_ good, you weren’t ready to leave you daughter with anyone. You could trust them with yourself, but not with your baby. 

Steve crossed your mind often, and it made you uncomfortable how much you thought about him. You didn’t know why he hadn’t come to see the baby. Maybe he was feeling guilty or maybe he just didn’t want anything to do with either one of you. You weren’t sure, but you were confident Nat wouldn’t let him hurt you either way. 

With time to finally process what you had been through, you found yourself overwhelmed with what you felt. You were scared, lonely, hurt. A part of you never wanted to see Steve again, and another part that was bigger than your wanted missed him. He was your only company for months. You tried to hate him. You would feel the scars along your neck, wrist, back, and you _tried_. 

You couldn’t. Because though he didn’t mean to, he gave you your daughter, your only joy. You couldn’t hate him. 

Resentment, gratitude, rage, sorrow, loss, fear, joy. 

Tired.

You were tired.

***

“I didn’t know about the glass,” you told Nat one day, when she was holding your baby, who grabbed at her red locks with chubby hands. Nat didn’t seem to mind. 

She never asked you about it, but you wanted her to know. 

“Even if you did, you didn’t deserve what Steve did to you.”

You paused for a moment.

“Bailey Serrano,” you said. 

“What?”

“That’s who gave me the glass.”

Nat looked at you, dumb founded, and she gently put your baby down. 

“Why are you saying something now?”

Paused, trying to put into words how you felt.

“Steve didn’t tell me why he took me. He just… hurt me,” you said and Nat shifted uncomfortably. “He told me after. I don’t know if Bailey did it on purpose. I didn’t think she did, and initially, I didn’t want her to go through what I had gone through.”

You let out a deep sigh, “But over time, it became apparent that even if I did tell Steve, he couldn’t let me go. Not with everything he’d done to me.”

Nat sat there for a moment, at a loss for words. 

“So no matter what, I was dead. He’d taken everything else. My dignity, my life, my future. I wasn’t going to give the one thing he wanted, not if I could help it.”

You shrugged.

“He started being nicer to me after Bucky was rescued anyway, so it wasn’t too bad, I guess.”

“Oh, sweetie, nothing he did was nice.”

“I know he wasn’t _nice_. He was just… _nicer_ ,” you murmured.

Your daughter crawled over and you smiled when she reached her arms out for you. You picked her up and cuddled her closely.

“Why are you telling _me_?” Nat said.

“I want to know if I was right, and I trust you won’t hurt Bailey.”

She nodded. 

***

A week had passed since you told Nat about Bailey. You hadn’t seen her since, and you didn’t know if she told Steve. You wondered if you were right to trust her. You hoped you were.

You had just put your sunshine down for a nap when you heard the door slam open, shaking the walls, the sound startling her and she wailed. Your head whipped around. Standing in the doorway was a brunette man glaring at you. You stood in front of the crib, ready to defend your daughter. He stalked forward, and before you could ask him who he was, he slapped you and you landed on the floor with a thud. He was on top of you, his hands around your throat. As you tried to pry him off of you, you felt one of his hands. It was hard, unmovable, and you heard the clinking sound of metal tapping together.

This must have been Bucky. 

Spots started to dot your vision, the room going dark. Voices could be heard in the background but you couldn’t tell who they were or what they were saying.

But then the pressure was gone and you took an instinctual gasp of air, following by coughing. 

“Bucky, Buck, stop!” You heard Sam yell, pulling the brunette off of you and dragging him away.

***

Bucky burst into the office.

“What the _hell_ , Steve?” His face was red, nostrils flared. 

Sam gave Steve a head’s up that Bucky was headed towards him, having found out about the girl. Steve hadn’t told him, not knowing exactly how he’d react to the woman who gave over the information that resulted in his torture. He just knew it wouldn’t go over well.

“Why is she here?” 

Steve signed, “because, she’s a kind woman.”

Bucky laughed, incredulously. Bitterly.

“Are you fucking _crazy_? I was tortured for two months, Steve. They cut pieces of my arm off, _slowly,_ bit by bit, day by day. All because of her.”

“She’s… suffered too.”

“So what, you rape her until she pops out a baby, and suddenly she’s a saint?” Bucky spat.

Steve winced at his words, “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” 

Steve’s jaw clenched, and Bucky scoffed heatedly.

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it? Have you lost your _goddamn_ mind?” Bucky shouted, fists clenched.

Steve stood up but didn’t say a word, the blue in his eyes a building storm.

Bucky sneered, “I didn’t have a year to hate fuck my anger out, so maybe you can forgive her, but I-”

Steve hit the table with a deafening sound.

“I don’t think she did it,” he snarled. 

He ran a hand through his beard, his jaw wound tight, before he shifted around and looked down while he gripped the edge of the desk.

“What?” Bucky asked, confused. 

“I don’t think she did it,” Steve repeated quieter.

“How… she was caught on tape giving Rumlow the glass.”

“I know. I thought she did it. I was _convinced_ she did it. But over time, things didn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her bank account never had any unusually high deposits, so she wasn’t being paid off-”

“Okay, so he paid her in cash.”

“Her apartment was clear. _Nothing._ Not even under the floorboards. Her bank statements showed she frequented the same parts of town, consistently, nowhere near Rumlows turf.”

“He has a fucking _car_ , Steve, he can _drive_ places,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “So what else?”

Steve sighed and shook his head. 

“I stopped looking into her after that.”

“What?” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his face contorted. “Why?”

Steve paused for a moment, not wanting to admit the words that followed.

“Because I… I didn’t want to pull on that thread. Because if she _didn’t_ do it, then I...” He glanced over to his friend and shook his head.

A tense silence followed, the two men looking at each other at a loss, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck…” Bucky sighed at last.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I failed you.” He sucked in a strained breath. “I never found who let this happen to you, because if it wasn’t her...” He sighed, his breath hitched. 

“She could have still done it,” Bucky offered, and Steve shook his head. 

“She didn’t deserve what I did to her even if she did.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, she _didn’t_ ,” a voice called from the doorway. Nat walked up and dropped a tablet on the desk. On it was a picture of a young woman. Steve recognized her as one of the cocktail waitresses at the Howling Commando. He couldn’t recall her name.

“Bailey Serrano,” Nat continued. “She was one of the lead waitresses at the club. She quit a couple months ago. _She_ gave her the glass.”

Steve couldn’t find the words.

“And for the record, Bailey didn’t know what it was either. Sitwell told her it was just Rumlow’s favorite whisky glass. Apparently, it’s not unusual for gamblers to have superstitious quirks,” Nat muttered. “Clint’s on his way to get him, so you two can have whatever sick revenge fantasy gets you off.”

Tense silence made the air in the room heavy.

“Why did Bailey give _her_ the glass, if she didn’t know what it was?” Steve said at last. 

“Her mom needed a ride to the hospital for chemo treatment that day. Her brother was supposed to do it, but he got arrested. So she gave her shift away.”

“Why did she ask her, then?” Steve had assumed the poor woman he had tortured for over a year was chosen because she would be the easiest to vanish, having no significant family to look for her.

Nat let out a bitter laugh.

“Because, she was the one mostly likely to pick up her shift. Because as Bailey said, ‘helping people was in her nature.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to use “y/n” so referring to the reader in third person has been a nightmare and I am so sorry.
> 
> The next chapter will be Steve’s POV and we’re gonna learn a lot about him. It might take a little longer for me to get out though.
> 
> I’m totally expecting people to hate where I’m taking this.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s commented and left kudos. I seriously love hearing your theories or answering your questions!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay thanks for reading! I’d greatly appreciate feedback! 
> 
> Please follow me at sweetlyscared.tumblr.com!


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